


Zelda Invictus (plus map)

by Charles_Rockafellor



Series: Love against the darkness [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, C-PTSD, Crossover, Food Anxiety, Gen, Loss, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Trust, Near Non-Con, Romantic Tragedy, Slice of Life, Whump, bildungsroman, тоска
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24228373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charles_Rockafellor/pseuds/Charles_Rockafellor
Summary: The first (completed) prequel of two to “Seize the Deity”; you might find “Seize the Deity” a more well-rounded work overall (though some portions of that are outlined rather than fully narrated).Tormented by a madwoman, hunted and hounded in her flight and sought by the authorities as her own impostor, Imperial Princess Zelda seeks time to heal, refuge from her own mind, answers to questions that she can't even form.Amidst all of this, a darkness is rising unbeknownst to all.  A force gathers that would see the world undone, all life snuffed out in a heartbeat, to suit its craving for power.“Through yonder grove, by the spring that is running,there you and I have so merrily played,kissing and courting and gently sporting...Oh, my innocent heart you've betrayed”- “Early One Morning (how could you use a poor maiden so?)” (Roud V9617)𝑫𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆, 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒖𝒃𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒆! ❤️
Series: Love against the darkness [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751167
Comments: 8
Kudos: 1
Collections: Light World, Love and romance





	1. Long ago, and far away...

**Author's Note:**

> The events described herein commence several years before those of "Seize the Deity" -- to wit: beginning in Mar 6551 PB (𝑃𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝐵𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑢𝑚).
> 
> For the accompanying playlist / soundtrack, please see:  
> ▐► <https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLzdQ9vN7FdPZDxyPmp_FKEHP6WfvmQnZz>
> 
> I'm rather attached to my formatting in .pdf, and suspect that the effort to duplicate it in Ao3 might be more than I wish to make. To see the following story in its original format, complete with per-page footnotes (Ao3 formatting forcing a per-chapter endnote approach), appendices, and author's commentary, please see:  
> ▐► <https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1BG7P_sVezz8Dn5b8js_34yeAjSBhfN0v>
> 
> As well, I've recently begun making an audiobook of this, the prologue of which can be found at  
> ▐► <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q7MI6TtFer4>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **NB:** The gilded letter “O” (in the first paragraph) came from [ReusableArt.com](http://www.reusableart.com/illuminated-letter-o.html), who state in their header “A collection of over 4,387 free downloadable **public domain** images for crafters and web designers that have been rescued from old books, magazines, and other print materials. All of the images in this collection are **copyright free** in the United States and any country that extends copyrights up to 70 years after the death of the original artist making them in the public domain and **free to use** in your next scrapbook page, notecard or other craft projects.”
> 
> Regarding the mod.s that I made to it, I rotated the image ever so slightly (the original is just off of vertical alignment) and cropped some extraneous surrounding material. It's currently set here for width="40em" (which results in 40px W * 39px H), since I have yet to sort out direct control of image height on AO3. Note that if you use this version of the image (216px W * 211px H), I assumed the reader to use a standard 100% zoom, and tested 44em (45.062em fits, but 45.063em causes a three row wrap), but even then the third row wrapped oddly at some zoom settings {25%, 33%, 300%, and 500%}. For an explanation of " **em** ", please see the [font size section](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28934610#Fonts) of “Fonts, and colors, and work skins, oh my!”, or the end of [that same section](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28934610#Images) for how that paragraph's wrapped text's **span height** seems more relevant than the visible text's height itself.

_**Light world ([open image](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/f4/00/63/f400631161599f7d7d782c1041c8f575.jpg) in new tab to zoom)** _

nce upon a time, there lived a beautiful princess in a beautiful palatial castle. Her family was wonderful and loved her very much. The lands all around were filled with wondrous things. She filled her time with reading and any number of little projects. For all of this though, she had still wished for one thing more in her life.

_**Be careful of what you wish for...** _

  
_Ooh, you're the best friend that I ever had._  
_I've been with you such a long time_  
_– you're my sunshine,_  
_and I want you to know that my feelings are true_  
_I really love you._  
_Oh, you're my best friend..._

_Zelda was rushing. She_ didn't _want to be late. She_ couldn't _be late again. Not that being early was any better, since that could look as if she were trying to rush Pérdida._

_Pérdida's voice rang out through the rooms, “Come on! Hurry up, let's go. You're making me late!”_

_Zelda cringed internally, feeling even worse now for having wasted the time and attention to think about it, when instead she could have now been that fraction of a second closer to done._

_“Move it. What the fuck always takes you so long?”_

~~~

Zelda wandered, the faces of strangers changing before her eyes to that of Pérdida. She'd awaken still hearing or smelling her, reaching over to cuddle. Pérdida was never there though, and so she'd shiver alone, staring into the night, into the darkness, wishing to change what had already come about, what no longer was, craving oblivion, the release of death or insanity. Neither ever came for her, and so she kept on for miles. For months.

Memories played themselves out unbidden, over and over. They'd crop up for no reason, overlapping and mingling. One would unreel and the next simply occurred seamlessly as she watched, even though without transition, more real, more present than her surrounds. Other times, they sprang upon her, triggered by the most innocuous events.

She could still hear the laughter, feel the warm presence in the good parts. Those were no more welcome than the pain, as they served only to torment her with what was no longer within her grasp, what had never in fact been the case to begin with.

She was peripherally aware of what happened around her, but it was all distant, unrelated to her. She lived in these memories even as her body occupied the world beyond.

 _Maybe something happened that forced Pérdida to spurn her, or she'd been coerced. Pérdida was surely just testing her, or this was all some nightmare, or she had died and this was Hell..._ She clung to these thoughts over and over, but her second or third thoughts knew better. She wasn't talking to them though. They offered cold facts and probabilities. No solace there.

_Until she comes_  
_again,_  
_the sun goes out and night comes in,_  
_the time goes 'round and day grows dim,_  
_until she comes_  
_again;_

_and with her step I move my feet,_  
_and with her hand I feel my skin,_  
_and with her need I find I'm saved,_  
_and with her dreams I'm_  
_laid;_

_I_  
_can't be saved_  
_from my wounds..._

=====

Her first night she had simply run. She hadn't stopped running all night, other than to walk, and begin running again as the fear caught up with her.

Morning found her exhausted, hungry, thirsty, confused, terrified. A welter of emotions played through her that she didn't understand.

She walked through the day, afraid of stopping once she'd seen an early edition of the newspaper. The headline proclaimed her dead, going on to claim that an impostor had escaped and was sought for questioning.

She made her way through some smaller towns, not even seeing them as she stumbled through, holding herself tight within against moments of panic when in markets or small crowds.

That evening, exhausted, she crept into a culvert to hide for the night. She hadn't eaten all day, nor the night before. They'd been about to eat dinner when Pérdida had said that she was leaving, laying into her for “ _topping from the bottom_.” She hadn't eaten since lunch the day before, and that had been a light lunch, rushed through at work.

There was a trickle of water, but it was filthy, and she couldn't bring herself to drink it. She only sat there, staring out into the darkness, uncomfortable on a pile of unidentifiable wet detritus, a chill draft at her back.

“ _You are my sunshine,_  
_my only sunshine,_  
_you make me happy_  
_when skies are gray;_

_you'll never know, dear,_  
_how much I love you;_  
_please don't take_  
_my sun_  
_shine_  
_away..._

_The other night dear,_  
_as I lay sleeping,_  
_...something-something,_  
_I don't remember..._ ”

Her voiced hitched halfway through, and trailed off as she realized that she no longer knew the words.

Pérdida had hated the song, and so she never sang it anymore. She hadn't sung it aloud for years. Pérdida said that it was ridiculous, sappy garbage by someone who couldn't stand on their own, putting all of the load onto the person whom they claimed to love.

“ _You are my sunshine,_  
_my only sunshine,_  
_you make me happy_  
_when skies are gray;_

 _you'll never know, dear,_  
_how much I love you;_  
_please don't take_  
_my sun_  
_shine_  
_away..._ ”

This time when she reached the end of the stanza, she simply began again.

And again.

She lost count of the number of times that she mumbled her way through the first verse.

_To long for death, but it cometh not..._

Eventually, she drank the culvert water.

**O ~~~ O**


	2. On a road to nowhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the accompanying playlist / soundtrack, please see:  
> ▐► <https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLzdQ9vN7FdPZDxyPmp_FKEHP6WfvmQnZz>

_**Light world ([open image](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/f4/00/63/f400631161599f7d7d782c1041c8f575.jpg) in new tab to zoom)** _

Fleeing the palace and Hyrule City in general, Zelda had dared not take a coach.

She'd had no idea who might be in Pérdida's thrall.

She'd had no clear goal in mind, nor any safe path to one.

She'd lost track of time, thinking hazily that it must now be two or three weeks since that fateful night.

Now she huddled beneath a footbridge in Regnants' Park, Eldin city.

In the dying light of early evening, she'd grabbed what she could to eat, plucking crayfish from the brook, tearing away their heads and sucking out their meat, until her fingers had grown too numb for the task.

She was miserable and terrified. Starving by measures.

In other ways, she was benumbed.

Her family was gone forever. She couldn't think on that, shying away each time that her thoughts drew too near.

The sky shattered again with nearing lightning, but still no rain as the wind picked up.

Pulling closer to the underside of the bridge, she wished that she had some way to block the crosswind, the rushes being of little use in the matter, but every direction that she turned seemed to bring her face-on into the gusts. She'd seen a small cave opening along a rock face earlier, and had sought to reach it when nobody was around, but it had defeated her every attempt. She could have been in there right now, out of the wind, if not actually warm.

She could have been home right now, warm and well fed, had things gone differently.

She still had no idea how it had all gone so wrong, what had happened to turn Pérdida's wrath against her, what she'd done that she could possibly have done better or make up for, what she could do to fix things now and make them all better again, to make Pérdida happy...

_I moved your picture_  
_from my walls,_  
_and I replaced them_  
_both large and small,_  
_and each new day_  
_finds me so blue._  
_Nothing..._  
_takes the place of you._

_I read your letters,_  
_one by one,_  
_and I still love you,_  
_when it's all said and done,_  
_and oh, my darling,_  
_I'm so blue,_  
_because nothing_  
_– oh nothing –_  
_takes the place of you..._

At least it wasn't raining yet. Even if the weather held though, the night would be cold.

She'd passed a restaurant today, half-glancing through the window in envy, half-fearing that she'd see someone whom she knew, or that someone would recognize her even in her bedraggled and ragamuffin motley. Even as she'd turned away, walking more rapidly to distance herself from the place and the memories that it conjured, an old man with a grizzled gray beard and ratty garb of indeterminate colors and materials had looked at her in shock.

“But you're _just_ a _kid_!” he'd exclaimed, underscoring the obvious.

She clutched her jerkin tight and shivered as the wind gusted once more.

Her jerkin.

Her newly acquired jerkin from someone's backyard.

She felt horrible for having taken it, but it afforded her some measure of warmth against the bite.

Another sudden gust tore tears from her eyes, and she couldn't tell if they were purely from that or her own aching emptiness within.

She shrank backward some into the shadow made red by the light of the path's blue lamp as she saw a Night Watch patrol approaching on its rounds.

Moments later, she heard shouted cursing as a paper bag flew toward her from above, riding the wind. It struck her heavily, forcing her to scrabble for purchase and dislodging one of the bags that she'd gathered around herself for warmth, this latter snatched up by the wind immediately and flying forth from beneath the bridge to land squarely in the center of the brook.

More cursing followed from above, as the watchman watched the empty bag float downstream and sink into the water.

As the pair continued along their beat, Zelda relaxed somewhat, then realized that the bag that had come on the wind wasn't empty.

Opening it, she found two thick eight-inch whole grain sandwiches, and tearing into the first one she found to her delight that it held ham, cheese, and eggs, and had been fried crisp in fat and still had enough soaked in to drip. The very thought of such grease would normally have turned her stomach, but now every calorie tasted like pure heaven to her.

Her eyes filled with tears of relief and gratitude to the goddesses for provisioning her as she stuffed the bag into her breeches.

As she nibbled at her first sandwich slowly, savoring the flavor, she turned her eye toward the thought of morning with a little hope. Hidden beneath the second sandwich had been an orange, which she held off eating for later. Perhaps she could find some birds' eggs. Judging by the vast quantity of droppings that she'd made out as she'd sought shelter in the gathering gloom and all of the cooing that she'd heard before the storm had come in, this bridge held quite a few – maybe she could even catch a pigeon or two to eat, though she'd have no fire to cook it with.

_'tis the beginning of spring; do not the birds start mating then?_

Morning came early, the light knifing its way into her eyes as the sun crested between two hills to the east.

Moaning uncomfortably, she rolled away from it, only to find an orange and white calico staring at her.

She stared back.

Its ribs stuck out badly, and even more so when it mewed in a creaking, scratchy voice.

She screwed her eyes tight against what she already knew she'd do.

Sighing, she reached into her breeches and pulled out the sandwich bag.

She tore off an ounce of it and gave it to the cat, who devoured it immediately and stared at her in expectation. In the end, she had a little more than half of it for breakfast as the cat licked herself contentedly.

_Mayhap some fish?_ she thought optimistically, _There is a goodly number of koi down there, and surely I could spear_ some _, or at the least some frogs and newts, though I still would have no fire for them... and I_ know _that I've seen people eat some of the plants here, hence surely observing them must yield some food eventually._

At this, she sighed, a mix of loss and relief consuming her.

_At least the cats will be well cared for by the palace staff, and are hardly likely to be taken in for questioning. Poor furballs._

She had indeed found some edible leaves and berries, but not enough to sustain against her growing hunger, and so as midday came 'round, spurred on by the scent of sausages and peanuts as buskers played their music here and there, with a mime or two for color, she coaxed a pigeon to come to her. It was easy.

Food – food everywhere... and still her soul did sink.

The fat and lazy bird came cheerfully, trusting from the bread that the park-goers tossed to the birds every day.

It sat now in her hand, confused by the lack of bread. She petted it calmly as she retreated beneath the bridge.

Looking into its eyes, she couldn't do it.

She was starving, but she couldn't kill it.

Setting it down, she gave it a pat on the head and a little scratching along the back, then shooed it away gently.

She had eaten some this morning. She could wait. Surely something would turn up soon.

=====

The shock of it all wore off as the days passed by. Each night found her somewhere new, alone and miserable, wondering and fearing what the next day might bring. This brought with it an overwhelming sense of unfairness, which in turn triggered downward spirals of self-devaluation and second-guessing of her own perception and thoughts.

Riding alongside all of this was the pain that ebbed and flowed, a silent scream within that wished for a meteor to strike Hyrule Capital. It was selfish, she knew, but the presence of outrage couldn't be denied.

=====

It had been a miserable week. The weather hadn't become worse, but nor had it grown any better.

She eyed the vegetable stalls in the market as the sun set. Perhaps if she looked pitiful enough, one of the sellers would take pity on her.

As the last of them closed down for the day, her shoulders sank.

“It's too early yet, my dear,” came an oily voice from the alleyway not far from the fountain where she was sitting.

She turned and peered cautiously.

“Fagin,” said a homeless man in a ratty coat as he stepped out from behind a dumpster, pointing toward himself with a long clay pipe. As he did so, his eyes inspected her carefully, with an ease born of experience. Just about six feet tall, slim build, no more than one hundred fifty pounds – and less just now, from the look of her – dusky skinned...

“You've not been long on the street. Three weeks, maybe a month?”

She nodded.

“There's a certain timing to these things,” he continued, “Too early, and the Watch'll have you in the nick posthaste; too late, and it's all gone before you get there – and you must observe the pecking order; you don't want to start before your betters have, or they'll beat you soundly for your efforts.”

He waited as she considered this.

“I could show you the ropes,” he said, letting it hang for a moment, “for a price. Half of your take, and you'll know when and where to be for fruit and vegetables too long in the sun for the housewives, bread too stale or sodden for the table, meat a touch too green for a hungry worker, but every bit a comestible fit for a king if you're a beggar.”

He smiled.

She didn't feel good about it. He was welcoming and helpful, but he sounded rehearsed, and his manner was like as if of court – from the wrong side. As well, his rate was usurious... but fifty percent of anything was infinitely more than all of nothing.

Slowly, hesitantly, she nodded briefly.

“There now, my dear,” he continued, “I knew you'd find your way to the right choice.”

He offered his hand with a nod, “I do hope that I should have the honor of making your most intimate acquaintance.”

=====

“ _Pérdida will you love me when_  
_the world grows hard and cold,_  
_and life is but a decadence,_  
_my face but gray and old?_ ”

Zelda sighed as she waited her turn to scrounge for dinner.

True to his word, Fagin had shown her a few things – the right places, the right times – but she was hungry. She was always hungry. She ate more now than she had been before his help, but with time, there was so little that she was losing weight badly. She didn't have the energy to pursue what little food she could get, but she had to.

The “bum rush” had begun ten minutes ago. Now she sat waiting her turn as the “choicer” morsels were picked over.

_Pérdida will you love me?_ she thought again. She'd written that for their second anniversary, in the blank journal that she'd gotten for her for their first anniversary. _Paper_. It wasn't really a very good poem, and iambic heptameter was somewhat trite, but she'd poured her heart into it. _Doggerel, forsooth, but still..._ How many pages that had been she couldn't now remember; seven, maybe ten pages, but only three or four quatrains per.

_Pérdida will you love me?_ She could still smell the orchids – Pérdida's favorite – that she'd given her as she presented the poem to her. She'd written it in calligraphy, Pérdida's favorite.

_Goddesses, I so wish to go home. But there is no home to go to. The palace yet stands, yes, but if all were corrected, still yet “home” could never again exist. It's all gone now... what matters._

Her eyes remained dry through this, her mind too benumbed to react to the images playing over again in her thoughts.

_Pérdida will you love me?_ She supposed that she had her answer now.

=====

“You really should eat more, my dear,” Fagin told her as he prepared some sausages for himself. The eggs didn't look terribly savory, nor the refried beans, but he seemed to do well enough with them.

She nodded, thinking on the fact that half of what she _could_ eat went to him. It was the same for all of them, but that was the price for having a roof over her head. At least she still had her jacket, and with the drafts and lack of insulation, she needed it; not that Fagin ever noticed. Fagin had layers to keep him warm, plenty of food, and the hearth.

“And there are always other ways for you to earn your keep, of course,” he added without turning away from his cooking. She knew too well. Others got to keep more of their food if they brought home other, more valuable goods. He'd noted that her skin would blend well with the shadows, and her natural litheness would permit her access to places that many others would give their right arm for.

It was also a good way to lengthen one's neck rather rapidly.

While she was grateful for his tutelage, the rent was exorbitant. Maybe it was time to strike out on her own again, before things grew too uncomfortable here...

**O ~~~ O**


	3. Killing me softly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the accompanying playlist / soundtrack, please see:  
> ▐► <https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLzdQ9vN7FdPZDxyPmp_FKEHP6WfvmQnZz>

_**Light world ([open image](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/f4/00/63/f400631161599f7d7d782c1041c8f575.jpg) in new tab to zoom)** _

  
  


“ _Strumming my pain with his fingers,_  
_singing my life with his words,_  
_killing me softly with his song_  
_– killing me softly... with his song –_  
_telling my whole life_  
_with his words,_  
_killing me_  
_softly_  
_with his song..._ ”

She sat there strumming gently across a guitar. She was beautiful, her lyrics haunting. Her hair was done in an overall pixie-cut, with an undercut to one side and let to hang long on the other. A deep red paisley bandanna was tied jauntily across her head, and a few beads dangled here and there, accenting the crystals that fringed the bandanna. The whole presented a lighthearted affect that was mesmerizing.

Zelda had made her way up to Altun, helping an old widowed trader and keeping him company in exchange for a ride. He'd even given her a few rupees, what he could spare.

Now that she was here, it felt as if she could breathe a little more easily. It was quiet and fairly rural. Nobody would look for her here.

The girl's song went on, and Zelda felt for her. It seemed that she had gone through the very experience that she sang of, sharing now with all who stood to listen the pain of wisdom hard-won, and all the while their eyes were locked onto each other's, connecting across the room and over the gap of their lives.

When the song was over, the tavern patrons applauded, a few tossing more coin into her case. It wasn't a large crowd, but it was still early in the afternoon. Putting away her equipment and collecting her earnings, she made her way to the bar as Zelda returned to her quiet contemplation at the corner table. It didn't last long.

A pint of lager appeared before her, and looking up she found the singer just sliding into the seat adjacent hers with another pint.

The girl's eyes traveled down, lingering on her chest, and then her hips, and again on the way back up, but remained on her eyes thereafter. Focused. It was a little uncomfortable, but there didn't seem to be anything wrong with her.

“Drink up,” she said, “you look like you could use it.”

Zelda's head bobbed in acknowledgment. “I thank thee,” she replied as she lifted the glass to her lips. She'd earned some coin herself, but needs must be frugal, and the lager was a welcome offer – a little too fruity for her taste, practically an ale, but with a rich head and plenty of hops.

“Janus,” the girl offered, her hand extended.  
  
“Ze – Zimpa,” panic flushing through her as she realized her mistake. Caught off guard, she hadn't been prepared with a name to give.

“Za'uzimpa? Unusual. Interesting,” Janus said, “Not bad.”

Zelda felt a little pleased at this, but also somewhat defensive, as if needing to defend her name quite literally. She dismissed this as ridiculous, since Janus was clearly only showing some interest and had simply been caught unawares by her choice of name.

Her hand held Zelda's, still. For a moment, her face tensed as she worried that the girl might not let go, but then she was released as if nothing meaningful had occurred. With relief, she assured herself that it was only her own fears preying upon her.

They talked for a while, Janus fascinated by her. They shared so much, it seemed. Janus had had her own troubles, of course, but those didn't matter really, and she'd gotten past them. She was much more interested in Zelda and what she wanted in life, what she enjoyed.

Before they knew it, several hours had passed, along with a few more pints. It felt good to just talk, even if circumspectly, to share some of her issues. Janus understood how things could just get completely out of control without being noticed until too late, and her hand-holding was comforting when Zelda reached the more painful parts.

Actually, it was more than comforting, a small thrill tingling through her each time. It was exciting to think that so pretty a girl might pay her attention. Maybe...

Janus's eyes beckoned over a barmaid, this time for dinner. She was attentive, her eyes scanning the room every so often as if to remain aware of her surroundings and bask in her own artistic mastery of the room – that it remained only the comely serving girls and the odd patron was of little matter. Zelda felt all the safer for it.

Then Janus's eyes were upon her.

The serving girl was awaiting her order.

She waved it off too quickly, trying to decline nonchalantly what she could ill-afford. Janus turned to the serving girl with a certain authority, exchanging a look and a nod, and the girl was away with her order.

“Not hungry, then?”

Zelda shrugged one shoulder, “Not so much as yet. Later, mayhap.”

As they continued to talk, the rest of the room fell away again, until the serving girl returned.

She tried not to look interested in the plates set down before Janus, tempted to order at least some bread, the seared strips of thick steak and sweet-buttered roasted potato heaped with sour cream smelled so good... and then the girl began placing the same before her as well.

Looking up in panic, she found Janus smiling warmly, and a warmth of her own rose to meet it as the serving girl poured their wine and placed a full jug on the table.

“You have a place to stay?” Janus asked as they looked over the ruins of their dinners.

Her belly full, the wine working its magic on top of that of the lager, the room cheerfully full without being crowded, Zelda's thoughts took a moment to gather – the first being to never mix grain and grape.

Thunder rumbled outside, reminding her of the heavy rain that had been coming down for some time by then.

She considered her options – none to speak of – and didn't know what to say.

Resigned, she resolved to simply shake her head, admitting her need.

Smiling, Janus replied “I thought as much,” reaching forward to place her hand over Zelda's, “You can stay with me, if you're up to it,” she offered in a lowered voice, leaning forward ever so slightly, her eyes intent, her breath just close enough to curl its way beneath Zelda's collar and tickle the back of her neck.

An odd choice of words, but more than fair.

She needed someplace to sleep, and this was far better an opportunity than that of the stable, if she could manage even that much.

She gave a hesitant nod, and Janus's smile broadened.

“It's settled, then! Drink up, friend!”

More wine arrived as they did so, this one fortified with brandy – a richer, smoother, and altogether stronger brew.

Janus's leg brushed across Zelda's as she reached to pour them the next round. It remained so thereafter, but Zelda hardly noticed.

=====

Giggling together in the late night air as they made their way up the stairs, Janus held Zelda's waist to guide her and prevent stumbles becoming spills. Her hand slid down somewhat farther in distraction as she worked the lock. Zelda pretended not to notice, since it was obviously an understandable slip under the conditions.

Once within, Janus paused to secure the door, then stumbled into her accidentally as she turned back again.

Startled, Zelda stumbled in turn, but Janus caught her, pulling her back in time.

Standing there in darkness, Janus holding her in what could almost be an intimate embrace, the distance closed in the moment. She panicked, feeling a rush of fear and excitement, craving so much to be wanted, but wishing even more to be away that instant.

As if sensing this, Janus reached her hand to the side of Zelda's face to stroke an errant hair calmly away, then stepped away to light a candle.

It had been only her fears preying upon her once more.

With the light, she could now see that the room was small, but still far better than she'd had hope of upon arriving in this village. It held only a simple bed, a dresser, and a bowl for night soil in place of a chamber pot, but it was warm and dry. A few colorful silks were hung along the wall, along with two posters advertising Janus's appearances.

“Make yourself at home,” Janus told her, sitting on the bed.

With only the floor as an alternative, Zelda joined her. She didn't wish to presume, but wasn't sure of how to broach the question of where she was to sleep. She decided that she'd simply use the floor unless otherwise offered.

“Nightcap?” Janus asked, reaching into the dresser.

Pulling out a bottle and uncorking it, she took a sip and offered it to Zelda.

“I fear that I've availed myself too much of your goodwill,” she replied.

“Nonsense,” Janus said, pushing it into her hand, her wrist crossing Zelda's nipple in so doing.

Unnerved, uncertain, and not wishing to be an ungracious guest, she accepted the bottle and took a small swig. It was strong indeed.

The rain had abated some by the time that they had left the tavern, but it had still been enough to soak them through before reaching Janus's apartment. She was reminded of this as a chill shiver ran through her, and so took another swig to ward it off.

Looking up, she found Janus half-undressed, then fully flushed, she turned away quickly to inspect the window.

Janus laughed.

“You've never seen another woman undressed before?”  
  
“I – eh...” Zelda stammered. Of _course_ Janus would be cold and wet, and need to change clothes, and there was only here to do so with only the one room.

“Hey, are you O.K.?” Janus asked, coming over to lift Zelda's face gently.

Her breasts were right in Zelda's face, her nipples stiff, the swell rising and falling with her breath.

The moment went on.

Lifting the edge of the shirt from Zelda's shoulder, she looked to her in question.

“You're a bit wet too, I know.”

Zelda mistook her meaning, shifting her legs away.

“Come on. A warm, dry bed will do you good.”

Zelda breathed in relief, now seeing that Janus had meant only her clothing, then dreading what shedding her own clothing would mean – she'd be naked.

Taking another swig, she followed suit, nervously, Janus offering encouraging smiles as she did so.

Climbing into bed, Janus blew out the candle, and they relaxed.

She was warm and dry.

It was safe.

Zelda awoke in the night, unsure of what had woken her.

The air was still, no sound to be heard nor sign of light in the sky.

Then she felt it.

Janus's hand moving slowly across her belly.

Her heart suddenly pounded, but it meant nothing. To move in one's sleep was only natural. She relaxed again, or tried to.

Janus's lips brushed along her shoulder and onward to her neck, her tongue finding its way to the back of her ear.

Zelda froze. She didn't want this. What could she do?

Wait.

If she seemed to sleep on, then Janus would give up and return to sleep herself.

Janus's hand worked its way lower, exploring, pressing against her as it rubbed gently in a circular motion just below her waist.

Her head still full of spirits, and more so now that it had all had time to settle in, Zelda couldn't find the words.

As Janus's nose ran slowly down her spine, Zelda felt only a creeping invasion, a presumptuousness that bespoke a sense of possession far beyond anything that Janus might be entitled to.

Again, Janus's tongue probed, now buried deep within the cleft at the base of Zelda's spine, and prying farther still thereto.

“Umm!”

“Shh...” Janus replied, returning to her delving.

She tried to roll away, but Janus held her in such a way as to make that nigh on impossible.

One hand now wrapped in her hair and pulling back on her throat, the other moving within her, Zelda felt used, taken advantage of, violated, her privacy ignored, her very being misused.

“Please – no...”

“It's alright,” Janus told her, “I can't _make_ you do anything that you don't _want_ to do...”

And with that, she was released.

Turning back to Janus, Zelda held the sheet close, trembling.

“I simply thought that you _wanted_ this, that you _liked_ me.”

Zelda gaped, unable to process this.

“I do! I _do_ li–”  
  
Janus smiled and kissed her before she could finish her reply, Zelda's own earthy and sweet flavors now in her mouth as Janus pressed herself to Zelda's hand.

As Janus's tongue now entwined itself with her own, she couldn't breathe. This made no sense.

How could Janus have misconstrued her so?

Janus slid upward, giving her some reprieve, a chance at air, only to find a nipple.

“I don't want this,” she managed, pleading, almost apologizing, her voice a near-whisper. Feeling as if caught in a tempest, she tried to hide deep within herself.

“What are you saying? Are you pretending to be the offended party? You were happy enough with my company when dinner arrived.”

She was right, 'twas true, but not with this in mind.

“I... I just...”

“Ahh, you _just_...? What? Just thought I'm here as your charity? You knew the tune, and danced the steps. All I want is my fair share in return.”

“Please...”

“Fine then – you know where your clothes are. You've gotten your free meal, now let me get some sleep before I call the Watch for your scam.”

Having gathered her things, she found herself on Janus's doorstep before she knew it, without yet the chance to don so much as a sock.

Her clothes were still sodden, but that wouldn't matter with the rain still coming at a steady drizzle.

With nowhere else to turn, she sat on the landing, mouth hung open silently as she rocked herself, arms wrapped 'round her clothes and belly, aching within, but not a tear found its way free to help in her anguish.

**O ~~~ O**


	4. Valjean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the accompanying playlist / soundtrack, please see:  
> ▐► <https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLzdQ9vN7FdPZDxyPmp_FKEHP6WfvmQnZz>

_**Light world ([open image](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/f4/00/63/f400631161599f7d7d782c1041c8f575.jpg) in new tab to zoom)** _

  
  


Kakariko Mura, early evening. A bustling town, right down to a hillside bakery with its own delivery service; rumor had it that this was performed by a witch. A body could get lost here.

Couples passed by walking their dogs, children scampering and shouting, families sat eating dinner at tables around the bistros and cafés. Most paid her no heed, studiously avoiding her gaze, suddenly intent upon some thought or passerby across the street, some turned a lip at her presence.

As the scud clouds passed overhead and evening drew closer, a cold, spattering drizzle began, ensuring a miserable night to follow the miserable day. Pressing herself to the glass of a shop for a moment, she was outlined by the light from within. _Too visible. Must keep moving._

She observed the thought listlessly as her body continued on of its own accord.

_People are strange, when you're a stranger;_  
_faces look ugly, when you're alone;_  
_women seem wicked, when you're unwanted;_  
_streets are uneven, when you're down..._

Turning into an alley to reduce the chance of encountering anyone, she caught sight of two coppers in the grime. Her stomach growled. Two coppers wouldn't be enough for anything, but they might get her out of the weather for a little while.

Prising them from the muck between the cobbles, she wiped them off as well as she could against her filthy tunic and returned to the shop front. She could smell the grease and bread, potatoes, hints of caramelized meat, the sweetness of various vegetables. Her stomach growled again. Wiping away the tears, she stood tall for a moment, then slumped dejectedly as she ventured in.

The shop was deserted, save for a matronly Dwarf at the register who looked up, but gave no sign of recognition. More important, she gave no sign of revulsion.

Zelda approached the counter.

“An' it please you, how much would it cost for a small mug of water, ma'am?” she asked pitifully, though her voice didn't betray her as she held up her only coins. It was thin and reedy, without vigor, but it was the fear seen clearly within her that spoke louder still.

The Dwarf glanced to the side of her register, at a wanted poster, then back to Zelda.

“Not to worry, child,” she replied soothingly, “they're free. Just you have a rest for now, and I'll be bringing it to you.”

Zelda nodded her head slowly in thanks and found a booth facing away from the door.

The nights had been growing colder, but the days still held their summer heat, and she was dehydrated badly. At the moment though, she was simply glad for the slightly cushioned bench.

She awoke to the Dwarf touching her shoulder gently.

Panic set in for a moment, before she remembered where she was, then she stood with a guilty start, sure that she must leave before she were thrown out bodily.

“Shh,” the Dwarf said, placing a tray in front of her, “you just rest a while longer dearie, and wash up when you feel like it.”

Zelda looked down in disbelief, and back up inquiringly, her consternation clear.

“Your order, dear, and your change,” the Dwarf said, a caring look on her face.

The tray held two ratburgers, a carton of fries, a milkshake, five rupees, and three silvers.

“I–” Zelda began.

“Go wash, then eat,” she said, “your food will still be here when you return.”

Zelda hugged her, not knowing how else to thank her.

As Zelda scrubbed the heavier layers of filth away, a pair of town guardsmen came in asking if the shopkeep had seen her. There had been a report that she'd been in the area.

They were turned away with a sharp tongue as she laid into them shrilly about how the girl had indeed been there, and still owed ten coppers for a meal, and that the town guard should do a better job of keeping such hooliganism from happening, and that she had a good mind to talk to their sergeant, and that she expected an apology from the scoundrel once she was caught.

As they started off, one turned to ask about the tray in the deserted booth. The Dwarf shrugged in disgust as she complained of her useless niece working for her – who was even now taking an extended second-dinner break.

“Would you like to meet her? I could have her in here on the spot – you _are_ both _single_ , I hope?”

“Happily married man, miss!” exclaimed the one immediately, backing away.

“Don't really favor _girls_ , myself, ma'am,” said the other, retreating carefully.

Zelda had stood trembling in the bathroom throughout the exchange, arms wrapped around herself as she crouched small with nowhere to hide, nowhere to run, coming out only after having waited several minutes beyond the slamming of the door.

She stood there staring at the matron, bewildered.

The matron dipped slightly in what might have been the sketch of a curtsy, murmuring something that sounded suspiciously like “ _princess_.”

She ate slowly, relishing the warmth of the food and how good it felt to fill her belly for the first time in ages. Even so, she stuck one of the ratburgers into her pocket for later. Throughout, she hunched over her tray, hovering as if to guard it from prying hands, her forearms bracing it, her hands always in motion, her eyes glancing about, now here, now there.

The matron didn't miss any of this, and soon came over with two more ratburgers.

Zelda looked up into her eyes again, holding her gaze for a moment, and began crying.

As the Dwarf sat with her, pulling her in and rocking her slowly, Zelda threw her arms around her and bawled. Eventually, her tears slowed and stopped, her breathing calmed.

“Why?” she asked.

The Dwarf looked into her eyes for a moment.

“Some things aren't so easily answered, child,” she replied slowly, “If your schedule permits, my husband and I could use your help and would be glad of the company for a while. There's space in the loft, if you live too far away.”

She understood that the Dwarf was offering this kindness, but what touched her most was the grace with which it was offered.

“Of course, we would pay for your work, since neither of us relishes washing dishes all the way in the back, out of sight of customers... _and town guardsmen_ – though we'd have to do something about your clothes, first.”

Zelda sniffled and nodded nervously, not willing to break the spell of the Dwarf's kindness and wake only to find herself still in the gutter.

So it was that Zelda came to stay there for the next several weeks, regaining some health and composure before being forced to flee yet again. She learned some of their cooking and language, and they grew fond of her as a daughter. They had no children of their own as yet, and she quickly became a part of their family. They regaled her with stories of their siblings and cousins, the pranks that they'd played in the Undercold, and of how they'd come to the capital to seek their fortune. They weren't rich, but were still doing moderately well, owned their own shop outright, kept in touch with their relatives abroad.

She never revealed her name to them, and so the matron took to calling her Valjean. When Zelda asked how she'd come to pick that, the matron said only that she reminded her of one. **1**

In time, she lost some of her haunted look, though she never stopped looking over her shoulder.

When the town guard came for her, she'd already left.

**O ~~~ O**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **1** Valjean: The Dwarves of the Undercold come from many different worlds. The Undercold is unstable, the passageways from one world to another waxing and waning, reconnecting in unpredictable ways. This makes it unreliable for most purposes, but an excellent migration route for those seeking to escape their home world. It also makes for an extraordinary wealth of histories and stories available to their bards.
> 
> The Dwarves arriving at Light World found themselves settling into a polyglottal creole, hovering at a close approximation of proto-Indo-European.


	5. L'Angeletto e il Diavolo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the accompanying playlist / soundtrack, please see:  
> ▐► <https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLzdQ9vN7FdPZDxyPmp_FKEHP6WfvmQnZz>

_**Light world ([open image](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/f4/00/63/f400631161599f7d7d782c1041c8f575.jpg) in new tab to zoom)** _

  
  


Northeastern Akkala. The leaves were turning, and the breeze held an early chill.

It was beautiful, but so empty.

Soaring towers and crumbling aqueducts dotted the trackless land in sparse number, the rest given over to wilds and dead trees, crusted lahars and vast bones of stone. Even what few Sheikah war-machines **1** still stood abandoned were in such decay as to offer no interest to the most intrepid of scavengers. Some people managed to scrounge a life out here, building the odd village or shrine and hoping that no monsters ate them.

Walking on in silence, Zelda was vaguely aware that she should feel cold and hungry.

She had no provisions with her now, having eaten the last several days ago, rationing them out as thinly as she could for weeks before that, but she'd been so hungry for so long that she didn't feel it anymore, as if her belly had finally realized the futility of pangs. A couple of ounces of anything every few days... it wasn't much, but you'd be surprised what you can live through.

A quiet part of her wondered if she should cry at that. She didn't despair though. Despair could come only when some hope was still sought. After despair came peace – a bleak peace, to be sure, but peace. The tranquility of having nothing to lose and no hope of attaining anything was a curious state.

The cold suited it well. Perhaps that was why she didn't feel the chill to her bones, being already desolate within.

A shrine stood ahead of her, much nearer now than an hour before.

This was a simple one, lacking the ornate organic whorls and visually jarring cyan and vermilion tribal eyeball designs of the self-aggrandizing Sheikah constructs. It further lacked any obviously druidic indications of the Deku, or the more barbaric simplicity of Moblins. Din, maybe, or Nayru or Farore; she couldn't say. One of the quiet Hylian Goddesses was her best guess, but she'd never paid much attention to religion and had little faith to speak of.

It was getting dark, and its shelter would be nice. Pointless and of little use, but nice.

The small stream running past it would at least provide something to drink at last.

She sat there staring into the night sky along the horizon, part of the shrine wall blocking the lower corner. There was no wood for a fire, but the shrine walls blocked most of the wind.

The water had been nice. She'd had a fair bit of it at first, going slowly so as to avoid making herself sick – she'd learned that lesson the hard way – then going back for a few more sips every so often, and working her way up to larger amounts. Maybe there were bugs or algae in it; it was too dark to tell, but she hoped so. It would mean just that little bit more sustenance at least.

Her head had begun drooping a while before, but she stayed awake. Staying awake warded away the dreams, the running, the screaming, the loss and pain, memories, confusion; awaking alone and scared, covered in a cold, stinking sweat.

The falling star to the northeast was the last thing that she saw before nodding off completely. It was pretty. A deep, bright blue, sparkling like a child's alchemical toy...

_A deep bass chord echoed through the darkness, fading away. After a measure of nothing, the chord repeated. Twice more this occurred, then becoming a loud upbeat to a strong and fast rhythm of sixteenth notes in a minor key, four measures, a half tone up from the preceding measure and back again and down. This took on a beat, as if the sound itself were marching across the emptiness to make war upon nothing._

_It soon became a discordant mincing, beating against the darkness, lifting and swelling only to slide back down chaotically, at times a diminished fifth of D and A, then at others a minor second in E and E-flat. There was a syncopation to it that was just beyond reach, a raging will to be – undaunted, uncompromising, defiant – squeals painting frenetic highlights against the now-saturated distortion._

_Then, after some immeasurable period, a new note sang out, a dulcet violin, a pure and crystalline thing of beauty, of love._

_Silence._

_Once more the chords took up their fiery stridor for a time, and once more came the serene reply._

_Silence._

_The new voice came floating once again, softly insinuating itself into awareness, its slow Locrian mode carrying a sense of emptiness, a loss unnamed lending a cooling balm to the currently absented jarring ferocity._

_The bass returned, renewing and redoubling its attack, yet now the violin's stepping scales sang with soft glides and glissandi, seeming to weave with it, dancing across arpeggios and whirling back to pick up on themes gone unnoticed._

_Soon the two were merged, a symphony of creation vibrating every corner of the air._

_The bass took a surprising turn, a half diminished seventh chord... dark, but almost playing with the violin. Courting it._

_As the bass picked up the undercurrent of the calmer, shallower water, the violin now carried the force of steadiness, an irresistible movement of earth._

_Softening, quieting, the bass came less frequently, as if straining itself to find what the violin had lost, and losing the violin in so doing._

_The violin, now so much the strength of the theme, had faded, its voice still felt within but no longer known to the ear._

_The bass, seeming disconsolate, carried on the quiet melody of the violin, itself now receding until all had stilled._

Zelda awoke in parts, becoming aware of being aware without being awake as yet.

Morning had sprung full on the land, and she felt refreshed. Hopeful.

No food presented, no chance for better shelter in sight, yet her spirit was buoyant.

As she stood up, something in the pile of rubble by the shrine's doorway caught her eye.

Digging through it, she found a satchel of seeds and nuts and dried goods buried therein.

Her fingers shaking, she closed her eyes in thanks for this find.

Looking up, she saw a fresco of Nayru along the wall.

Kissing her fingers to it, she removed some of the nuts and seeds and placed them back into the rubble, a few of each type to the north of the wall and a few to its south, covering them all with some dirt, then dug a shallow trench from the stream to the doorway. Perhaps they would take root, and someday this shrine would again see others' hunger alleviated in their times of need.

Remembering the falling star of the previous night and walking toward whatever might come, the satchel at her side and her water-skins full, she began to sing – and well aware of the contrasting spirit of the song with what followed, yet nevertheless quixotically cheerful.

“ _Libiamo, libiamo ne' lieti calici_  
_che la bellezza infiora,_  
_e la fuggevol, fuggevol ora_  
_s'inebrii a voluttà!_

_Libiam ne' dolci fremiti_  
_che suscita l'amore,_  
_poiché quell'occhio al core_  
_onnipotente va._

_Libiamo, amore_  
_– amor fra i calici_  
_più caldi baci avrà..._ ”

**O ~~~ O**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **1** Sheikah war machines: The war ended >6,500 years ago, but the machines endure. This is a testament to the level of sophistication that their metallurgical and thaumaturgical technologies had reached by then, now lost to time.


	6. The Jonah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the accompanying playlist / soundtrack, please see:  
> ▐► <https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLzdQ9vN7FdPZDxyPmp_FKEHP6WfvmQnZz>

A thick fog had settled over the night, and through this curtain of icy white her lonely ship seemed becalmed while yet moving onward. Visions came and visions receded, time having lost meaning to her. The moon appeared a nebulous mass, unresolved beyond a smear of light.

_There is no pain, you are receding,_  
_a distant ship, smoke on the horizon;_  
_you are only coming through in waves,_  
_your lips move, but I can't hear what you're saying._

_When I was a child I had a fever,_  
_my arms felt just like two balloons;_  
_now I've got that feeling once again,_  
_I can't explain,_  
_you would not understand,_  
_this is not how I am;_

_I have become_  
_comfortably numb..._

The back-before.

She remembered it.

_So long ago..._

_...was it?_

An albatross circled her lavaship, high in the sky.

_I must surely be in the hands of Morpheus._

Time passed. A few days. A week.

She didn't feel as if she'd been asleep, but the sun was different. Lower. An albatross sat at the prow, regarding her calmly.

_If I could but reach it..._

_To what end? To cause another death, simply extending my own life by a day?_

_Let if live. Let it be free... to know whatever happiness an albatross might know, thermals beneath its wings... the cool air rushing past it, the ground so far below... alone in this wide, wide sea..._

_I've never seen a blue albatross before..._

She laughed raggedly, a raucous croak.

_– maybe it's my totem._

Her eyes drifted toward the island, ever nearer but never any closer, flashes of witch-fire dancing between it and the ship as she shivered, the heat growing cold against her skin as she succumbed to the weariness, soon to sleep.

Her ship grounded without her knowledge, and a figure crept aboard soon thereafter.

She came to momentarily as it hovered above her. A blue hedgehog.

Sand. Huge, hissing reptiles.

Rocks and an impression of great height.

Greenery brushing her face.

Cool darkness enveloping her with a soft caress.

Her eyes tracked some people present within the space, a Tanuki – no, wait... a _Kitsune_ – and some Deku Scrubs and a Fairy of some sort, before coming to rest upon the Hedgehog once more.

Three words escaped her lips before she passed out again.

“My blue angel...”

As her mind drifted in the cool, dark rooms beneath the castle, a small part of her relaxed ever so slightly. She was among friends. She could rest now.

The ghost of a memory worked its way through her; a song that she'd heard somewhere and never understood before.

_Hickory, oak, pine, and weed;_  
_bury my heart underneath these trees,_  
_and when a southern wind comes to raise my soul,_  
_spread my spirit like a flock of crows,_

_'cause I loved ya for too long._  
_I loved ya for too long._  
_I loved ya for too long._

_Old heat of a raging fire,_  
_come and light my eyes,_  
_summer's kiss through electric wire,_  
_but I'll never die..._

**/// ~~~ ///**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the continuing adventures of Zelda, please see “[Sonic's Redemption](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24230851/chapters/58380841)”.
> 
> To see the map, appendix (an analysis of Zelda's archaisms), and author's commentary, please see the "Zelda Invictus" .pdf at  
> ▐► <https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1BG7P_sVezz8Dn5b8js_34yeAjSBhfN0v>


End file.
